Extracts
by starah
Summary: A series of oneshots detailing moments recorded between the heroine and the characters from TMGS1. Loosely based on CG events and on imagined events occuring after the end of the game.
1. Hibiya Wataru, Ace Pitcher

The sky was a brilliant shade of aqua, with only a few streaks of white. Hibiya Wataru could barely take his eyes off it through the window across the table. The usually noisy canteen was thrillingly quiet; his baseball team members sat tensely as they toyed with their food.

"I can't believe it," He mumbled for what was probably the millionth time since he'd woken up bright-eyed, his heart hammering. They'd come all this way to the finals, and now they were just one match away from being known nation-wide as the best high school baseball team in Japan. 'And I'm only a second year!' Hibiya thought to himself, still disbelieving of the incredible situation he was in.

But yes, Hibiya supposed, they'd practiced an insane amount, so much he'd seen baseballs in his sleep and his hands were heavily callused from the number of baseballs he'd been throwing. Every member's gloves were worn from practice, no longer the glossy leather that had Hibiya's heart skipping beats the first time he'd come to high school. But somehow, seeing the baseball glove at his side covered with grazes and rubbed worn gave the second-year a soaring sense of satisfaction.

He'd never been so excited; he could hardly sit still. But the third-years were far more grave, as it was their last chance at winning the nationals, and their faces were like stone. Hibiya didn't think it'd be wildly appropriate for him to start his usual excited prattle, but he couldn't stop twitching in his seat and gazing out at the blue, blue sky.

"Why does it feel like a funeral in here? Everybody, eat something!"

He didn't have to look to know it'd be his senpai, the baseball team manager. Her hands on her hips, her short hair framing her face endearingly today, she peered down at them all with narrowed eyes.

"If you guys don't eat something, you're not going to have any energy to play today," She chided, and as she continued to encourage everyone to eat, some of the senior members finally lifted their spoons and chopsticks and began to attempt eating. Hibiya felt a warm wave of gratitude sweep through him; it was really mostly the efforts of their manager that the team had practiced so hard.

So matter what, they could always count on the strong-willed and cheerful girl to be there at every practice, scrubbing hard at their uniforms and polishing their gloves and always, relentlessly, cheering them on. As the coach and captain pep-talked, she was always there to hand them a cold towel and a bottle of ice water, and at the end of every game - they'd won all of them - she was always there to congratulate them from her heart.

Perhaps she lacked the feminine touch and softness that the basketball team manager, Konno-senpai, had. But baseball team manager was always genuinely bright, and though she wasn't nearly as girly as Konno-senpai she was sweet in her own way, looking out for the underclassmen. Hibiya knew that every member adored the manager, but he wasn't sure how many of them felt exactly the way he did when he thought about her.

He was the only one who regularly met with her outside of the baseball club activities as well; they shopped together, had talks together over tea, went out and had ice-cream, and so on and so forth. Ever since he'd glimpsed more than her friendly face at the baseball club, he wanted to see her all the time. At first, he had approached her because of his obsession with Hazuki-senpai. But now...

She suddenly grasped at one of his wrists, startling him out of his thoughts as he let out a yelp, his cheeks colouring; she pressed a bottle of cold orange juice into his hand. "Hibiya-kun," She said, looking straight into his eyes, (God, she had such clear eyes!) "How're you feeling?"

"Fantastic!" He blurted out, his eyes shining, but then his heart felt fit to burst so he admitted, shrinking back a little, "And really really nervous, senpai."

"I'm nervous too," She admitted quietly, and she brushed her fingertips lightly against his hair, distracting him just slightly as she continued, "But I've been watching all this time, and I know how hard you've worked for this. Give it your all, Hibiya-kun." Her eyes were burning into his so intensely, for a moment he couldn't speak.

"Y-yes, senpai!" He exclaimed, flushing crimson as she smiled prettily at him. Then she bustled off to give drinks to the other members of the team. Hibiya couldn't help noticing that she'd gotten only him his favourite orange juice, and everyone else she gave apple tea or milk.

Smiling confidently, Hibiya picked his baseball cap up from his side and fit it onto his head securely. The blue sky had never looked more promising.

"Yosha," He said happily, "Let's do it!"

Oh God. The atmosphere was swelling in ancitipation and tension, pressing in on all sides; the sky, so innocent and promising through the canteen window, now felt like a huge, unfathomable expanse without its frame. Hibiya felt his legs shaking even as he sat on the bench; his seniors were all sitting like stiff pokers, their mouths tightly shut as though they were afraid of being sick.

The crowds were murmuring, cheering and calling out, but Hibiya heard them as one loud drone of voices. Still, none of the noises the watching crowd was making could drown out the sound of his own heart.

When the next pitcher was out, he was next. Hibiya Wataru, second year, would be next on the mound. He could still remember telling senpai about his dream to stand there one day. Now, that moment was about to come true. And what was even more mind-boggling was that he was going to pitch last at a score that was at a standstill. Their winning would depend entirely on him, and that terrifying pressure tingled right through to his fingertips and toes.

He was so caught up in his own nervousness and mantra to keep calm that he didn't hear the coach at first. Then a sharp clap to his back brought him plunging back to earth as the coach yelled, "Hibiya, you're up next!!"

"Y-yes!" Hibiya gasped, standing up so quickly he nearly dropped his glove. Trying desperately to compose himself, he stepped out from the shadows of the benches and onto the pitch.

Oh God, oh God. The sun poured down on him, hot and glaring, and he got a good look from under his cap just how many people were seated around the stadium. His madly thudding heart could no longer be heard, though he could feel it painfully; the crowd's cheers and exclamations were now surrounding him, enveloping him. He willed himself not to tremble as he walked towards the mound, sweat trickling down the back of his neck, his hands aching from tension...

"Here," said someone - Hibiya had no idea who as he was so wrapped up in his thoughts - and a baseball was pushed into his sweaty palm. He stared at it dumbfoundedly for a second, and then bit his lip hard. Everything rested on this one ball. Bringing it up into his glove and willing himself to calm down, Hibiya looked at the batter across him.

The batter, a burly, confident looking senior, looked at Hibiya and actually smirked at him. He swung his powerful arms back and gave a few, unnecessary practice swings; Hibiya could hear the impressive sounds they were making, cutting through the air.

'That's an incredible swing,' Hibiya thought, unable to keep himself from staring, and the batter looked at him with an obnoxious grin. But Hibiya didn't have room in his mind to be goaded by the batter's attitude. Because he already knew with every fibre in his body that he could not, absolutely not, let the batter hit that ball he threw. That was all that mattered; and the fact that the batter was being a git was something Hibiya didn't even properly register.

'I dont know if I have it in me to do this,' Hibiya realised suddenly, his thoughts crashing through his head in a blur, 'But...! This is all I have to do. If I can throw this, that's all we need. This is something I can't let myself falter over.'

He tried to take a deep, calming breath, trying desperately to convince himself. 'I can do this. I can definitely do this...'

Suddenly, one voice cut through the roar of noise around him, jolting him from his deep thoughts. "Hibiya-kun!! Go for it!!"

His eyes shot over to the source of the cheer, and sure enough his favourite senpai was on her feet at the benches, her eyes trained on him and her hands cupped around her mouth.

"Senpai..." Hibiya said out loud involuntarily, and a surge of adrenaline tided through his veins.

"Hibiya-kun!! Go for it!!" She was screaming it over and over, and Hibiya was suddenly hit with the realisation that she was watching him. Not just as his manager, Hibiya knew now. She was really watching him, but as what? As a friend, as a younger brother? As a man?

A montage of memories crashed through Hibiya's mind; not just the times when she, as a manager, would panic trying to patch up holes in their uniforms, or sit for hours at end just watching them, or go out of her way just to cheer them up after a bad practice. The moments that shone most brightly in Hibiya's mind were the personal little details about her he got to know on their precious few dates together.

Like the way her laughter bubbled when he deliberately pointed out the most gruesome clothes on sale at the flea market, or the way her eyes seemed to shine with mirth when she teased him whenever he was late to dates, or the way she bit her lower lip sometimes when she was feeling insecure, or how small her hand felt when he held onto it sometimes while walking her home... The senpai he treasured so closely to him was standing there, screaming his name and cheering him on.

Hibiya felt an incredible rush as he realised he wasn't going to throw this ball for himself, for his dreams or for his glory. He was going to throw this next one for her. All her efforts as a manager and what she meant to him, he'd pay her back and more. And the first thing to do was to throw this damn thing with everything he had. He'd show her that everything she'd done had been worth it.

"Yoooshi!" Hibiya fixed a piercing gaze onto the batter across him now, who looked startled at his sudden change in demeanor. "Hibiya Wataru, this is your ultimate challenge!"

He swung his arm back, narrowing his eyes as he muttered, "Everything I've got, I'm putting it into this next straight!"

With a roar of adrenaline pumping through his veins, Hibiya pitched the baseball with all the skill he had. It happened in a blink of an eye; one second, the batter was blinking stupidly as the ball shot forward in a beautifully straight and fast line. Hibiya felt his throat constrict painfully as the batter gave a wild, powerful swing of the bat-- Then the next moment--

"Strike out!" The words reverberated across the pitch. "Game set!"

Screams and cheers erupted from the stadium; every member of his baseball team shot up from the benches with hoarse yells and cries, and the next thing Hibiya knew was that he was being mobbed by his seniors, one or two of whom were sobbing - the one thumping his back was probably his captain - and the coach was yelling with his fists pumping the air, "Yes!! Yesss!!"

But what really got Hibiya's attention was his manager, standing at the edge of mob, smiling at him radiantly with tears in her eyes. "You did it, Hibiya-kun!" He could barely hear her over the noise his seniors were making, but they were the only words he registered from around him, and the most incredible feeling began to rapidly inflate him from inside.

"I...! I did it!" Hibiya felt a grin far too big for his face begin to spread across his lips, but he couldn't stop it; tilting his head back to look into the skies, he yelled at the top of his lungs, "I DID IT!!!!"

It wasn't until much, much later that Hibiya was able to get his manager alone. As everyone chatting excitedly trooped into the locker rooms to shower, Hibiya hung back.

Then it was just him and her in the hallway.

"Hibiya-kun, congratulations!" She exclaimed, her eyes shining, and though the euphoria of winning was already flushing his skin Hibiya turned a deeper shade of pink.

"I couldn't have done it without everyone's efforts," He admitted, "I was really nervous."

She reached out and lightly traced her fingers over his own without saying anything. That was one of the things Hibiya found wonderful about senpai; she didn't have to say anything out loud to communicate how she was feeling, and in that one movement Hibiya could tell she was just exceedingly glad and happy for him. He looked at her shyly in the eyes.

"Senpai." She did that little thing where she blinked and raised an eyebrow, and that little quirk of hers somehow stoked him to say with great feeling, "Because you were watching me the entire time, senpai... that's why I gave it my all."

To his pleasure, she blushed, her eyes widening in surprise before softening. Though all she said was, "Hibiya-kun..." it somehow spoke volumes about how touched she was.

He wanted to say so much to her, but there was too much to say, and he knew that this was hardly the time to say it. He needed a shower desperately and the team was going out tonight in celebration so he'd never get a chance to talk to her properly like this until much later. Instead, he smiled at her sincerely to thank her for the one thing he felt was owed to her especially. "The Habataki High School Baseball Club is now the best in Japan! Thank you so much for all your hard work!"

She blinked a couple of times, and then smiled so warmly at him he had to suppress the urge to hug her. In fact, though she seemed about to say something, he was quite seriously considering just glomping her. But they were interrupted by a holler.

"Hey, where's our winning pitcher?!" The team captain came tearing out of the locker room half-dressed, and seeing Hibiya he grabbed him and proceeded to drag him into the locker room, yelling, "I've got him, the little rascal!"

"Uhm... see you later, senpai!" Hibiya managed to call out, and she gave a little wave, a smile and a nod.

Just before the door swung shut he caught a glimpse of her clear eyes once more, gazing at him with indescribable pride.

-end- 


	2. Ace Pitcher: Second Half

"Who gave him alcohol?!" I demanded, scowling at the seniors, but they all whistled and pretended not to hear me.

"Shen-paaai," Hibiya-kun slurred, his eyes slightly glazed as he held up his glass, "Cheeeers..."

Snatching the glass from his fingers, I slammed it down on the table and held up my hand for a waiter. "A glass of ice-water, please!" I yelled, trying to be heard over the racket the baseball team was making.

"Stop being such a killjoy," Teased the rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed coach from across the table, and I sighed.

"I'm not trying to be," I huffed, "But you know as well I do that Hibiya-kun is close to being completely smashed."

"I ahm nooooot," Hibiya-kun said defiantly, swaying slightly as he said it. Suddenly, he grabbed my shoulders and looked me very closely in the face. I hoped no one could see my sudden flush; why was I flushing?! It's only Hibiya-kun! I told myself.

To my horror, his blue eyes were suddenly teary, his cheeks red as he bit his lip.

"Shenpai," He mumbled, "Do yooou th-think (hic) I'm tooooo young? ...Dooo you?"

"Er, too young for what?" I asked, flustered by the close proximity though I didn't know why, and I pushed my hands against his arms. He suddenly lost strength and fell limp, his head lolling against my shoulder, his mouth mumbling something drunkenly before falling silent.

"Hibiya-kun, get up!" I yelped, shaking him, but he didn't stir. I pushed against him, and thankfully his breath left the sensitive skin at my neck and he instead collapsed onto my lap.

"Oops," said the coach as the others roared with laughter, "guess you were right. Well, doesn't take much to floor our winning pitcher, eh?"

I glared at him, and he hastily went back to his yakitori. The ice-water came, and I drank it instead, attributing my previous blushing to the euphoria of finally winning. Not Hibiya-kun, I told myself firmly, he has nothing to do with me blushing... He's like a little brother, it'd be like Tsukushi making me blush.

Thinking of it like that made me shake my head in disgust, but another, annoying little voice at the back of my head reminded me that Hibiya-kun was not like Tsukushi at all in my line of sight... We were only a year apart, after all. All the times he complimented my clothes, promised to take care of the Valentine's chocolates I gave him, held my hand all the way home; could I really say he was only my 'little brother'?

And... had I imagined it? The words he had mumbled right below my ear, when I had asked, 'Too young for what?' I laughed a little nervously to myself as I glanced down at his sleeping face, like a child's in many respects, sleeping so deeply in my lap.

'For you.' That was what I thought I heard. But that couldn't be right...

'...Because you were watching me the entire time, senpai... That's why I gave it my all...'

"No, no, no!" I exclaimed, feeling my cheeks flame, "He didn't mean it that way, I'm sure of it! I have to stop thinking about this!"

"Er, what?" Said several members next to me, but I ignored them. Instead, I grabbed a glass of beer and downed it in one go. The team members cheered, surprised and delighted.

"Shenpai..." Hibiya-kun mumbled against my thigh, sending unwarranted goosebumps down my legs.

"Another one!" I yelled. 


	3. Suzuka Kazuma, Protector

'I'm such an idiot!!'

Kazuma could not stop berating himself as he ran down the stairs, not even pausing to apologise when he nearly ran a few girls over - not that they minded, they winked and tossed their blonde hair at him - and he ran flat-out on the landing, calling out her name.

"Damn it!" He cursed quite colourfully in Japanese as he slammed a fist against the wall after twenty minutes of fruitless searching. Where the hell was she?! It's because you were late, a little voice said in his head, and Kazuma scrunched his hair up in his fists as he let out a low hiss.

They were living in the same campus, just one floor apart from each other, but they might as well be living in different buildings in Kazuma's opinion. It was for him that she had left her life in Japan and come with him to America. Life was a lot more hectic in America than they'd even imagined, and the whirl of applications they had gone through was more frenzied than they'd initially thought. Then when they both were accepted to the same college as transfers, the future Kazuma had promised her became solid, and now it was real.

Kazuma had been dead set from the start that they move together all the time. They took the same courses in the same college as transfer students, and were always paired or in the same group for all tutorials and group projects. She was always watching him during his practices, and she usually waited out on the bleachers while he showered quickly and rejoined her for dinner or a midnight snack.

Whenever they went out, whether it was a trip to the supermarket or the library, Kazuma made sure he was at the end of her floor waiting for her before she even left her dormitory room. He had seen and heard a lot of things, and though his English was quite crap, it was still good enough to understand that a lot of the people here looked down upon Asian people in general. But the worst thing was hearing the boys from the room next to his, talking about how they liked 'boning' Oriental chicks in particular. It hadn't taken Kazuma long to figure out what they meant, and worse, who they might be thinking about.

She was supposed to be with him now. He'd never been late to any of his dates with her since they'd arrived at America, not once, and for the first time Kazuma was experiencing extreme fear and worry at her behalf. They were supposed to meet outside the sports hall, but he'd been late because he had been pulled back in his dorm by a couple of morons trying to convince him to come out for a drink. If he'd actually practiced his conversational English like she had constantly reminded him to do, then he might have gotten away faster; resultantly he'd wasted fifteen minutes trying to explain why he couldn't go without offending them.

'Stop worrying,' He tried to tell himself, 'She can take care of herself, her English is better than mine...' Though that wasn't saying much, really... How would she react if those revolting prats from next door tried to hit on her? Would she understand?

Even when that gross Japanese dude hit on her, Kazuma remembered how she had drawn her arms up before her, her eyes clouded as she bit her lip and backed away. Kazuma had stepped in and told the idiot to get lost in the most menacing tone he could muster. And now he remembered, as he had stepped in front of her protectively, how her small hand had slipped over the crook of his arm, and how immensely relieved and glad she had been to see him... How happy she'd been to see him protect her...

He had to find her. If she wasn't in front of the sports hall or her dorm or around the lecture halls, then she might be near the coffee shop. It was worth a shot. Kazuma sprinted over there as fast as he could, unable to pretend to himself any longer how much he needed her next to him in his line of sight.

He was panting by the time he reached the Starbucks, and she wasn't there as far as he could tell. Muttering furiously to himself, Kazuma started back to the sports hall, knowing that there was a slim chance she might be there now. Still breathing hard, Kazuma arrived at the main entrance to the sports hall, and then stopped short.

There she was, standing there with her shy smile on her lips, her short hair currently pulled back from her face with the little pink flower hair pins Kazuma liked so much and her hands currently cradling a paper bag.

For a moment, Kazuma just stared at her. She caught notice of him, and smiled at him happily. "Kazu-kun!" She called, walking over to him, "Where were you?"

Kazuma's inner impulse was to grab her and hold her to him tightly, so relieved he was to find her safe and sound, but with the number of students walking around them he felt strongly against this course of action. Instead he yelled at her.

"I want to ask you the same thing!!"

"Eh?" She blinked at him. "I was waiting for you but you didn't turn up for so long--"

"Why didn't you wait a little longer?!" He realised people were staring at the Japanese couple arguing loudly, and he tried to keep his voice more even as he continued through his teeth, "Do you have any idea how... worried... I was about you?!"

She stared at him. "Worried?"

He could feel a hot flush fill his cheeks as he snapped, "Yes! I was worried, okay?! I mean... I'm-- I'm sorry I was late." He looked away from her eyes, deflated slightly as he remembered that this was all his fault in the first place and he had no right to yell at her like this. "It's just... I need you to be with me. If you're not where I think you are then I... I think I go nuts." God, this was embarrassing. He looked at her nervously, and to his surprise she was blushing just as much.

"I-I'm sorry, Kazu-kun," She said softly, and she looked embarrassedly back at him. "I didn't mean to worry you. I just... since you were running late, I just went and grabbed a couple of drinks for you, so you could have it after practice..."

She showed him the contents of the paper bag in her arms with a light rustle: two bottles of Gatorade. She smiled at him apologetically. "If I'd known you'd run around looking for me, I would have never gone wandering off. I'm sorry."

God, she was being so sweet and sincere... He held her other hand in one of his own, and she flushed with pleasure, clearly aware of the fact that this was something he did not normally do with this many students milling around them.

"I'm the one who's sorry," He said, folding her small hand into his own, and she clasped him gently back, her eyes warm.

A wolf whistle sounded behind Kazuma, startling them, and he whipped around to see his next-door neighbours smirking at them. At first, they spoke rapid English with a leer, but when they saw how confused the couple was the tallest and sleaziest looking one of them spoke very slowly.

"Is she your girlfriend?"

This, Kazuma could understand; he could feel a blush fighting to rise up his cheeks, but keeping her hand in his and standing before her to shield her from their eyes, Kazuma nodded curtly. "Yes," He added for good measure.

They snorted with laughter. One of them started saying something that Kazuma could only get the gist of; something like how they were acting like middle-schoolers, little kids still on their first date. White-hot anger shot through him; as if it were any of their business how intimate he was with his girlfriend!

The sleazy-looking one stepped right up close to them, and Kazuma instinctively stepped between him and her. This earned him whistles and derisive laughs from the crowd starting to form around them, but he didn't care; the last thing he wanted was for this guy to hurt his girl.

"Hm... you followed touchy Jap guy here all the way to America, huh? Poor thing."

Kazuma bristled, but did not move; he knew she would hate it if he tried to do anything, like that time next to the DDR machine. He wasn't sure what 'touchy' meant, but he was pretty sure it meant something bad. He tried to keep his temper, however. The sleazy guy was still intent on speaking; perhaps he was enjoying pushing Kazuma's buttons.

"You must feel like you're dating a little boy," The guy said with a nasty smile, "But if you ever want to know what a relationship at your age should really be like... let me know. I would love to show an innocent Japanese girl like you around..."

Kazuma was trying so hard not to lose it, but when the sleazy ass made an obscene gesture with his fingers and tongue that unfortunately Kazuma understood quite well, he could not stop himself. He shoved the guy hard in the ribcage, narrowing his eyes as he snarled in Japanese, "Stay away from her, you asshole."

"Kazu-kun!" She gasped, "Don't!" But of course, it was too late; the sleazy guy's eyes were burning with anger as he straightened his shoulders and started towards Kazuma. Before he could do anything, however, the guy's friends pulled him back roughly: "Stop being an ass, Mike!" For a while they had to hold him back with great force because he was desperate to land a punch on Kazuma; however, he gave up after a while and spat at Kazuma's feet before beginning to stalk away.

Kazuma was frustrated; as much as he knew it was a good thing they hadn't come to fisticuffs, he really wanted to let the asshole know that this girl was 100 off limits. He was still trying to formulate a way to communicate this effectively when she spoke first, loudly, in her halting English.

"Kazuma is not a little boy," She said, her voice steely and her eyes narrowed in a way Kazuma had never seen before. "Kazuma is my boyfriend. And even if you like 'innocent Japanese girl' like me, I am not interested in-- in disgusting men like you. I am only interested in Kazuma."

Kazuma had grown so accustomed to her chirping 'Kazu-kun' that it felt rather strange to hear her call him 'Kazuma'. He could feel himself blushing from her words, broken as they were in a language neither of them knew very well, and he squeezed her hand. He didn't realise how tightly she was holding his hand until he felt her relax just slightly. 'She's shaking,' He realised, and he chanced a glance at her face. She was not biting her lip like last time; she looked absolutely livid. '...Is she shaking from anger?'

"Meh," Said the sleazy guy after a beat of silence, "You're not that pretty anyway." The group of boys continued on, and Kazuma could have punched the back of his head for that last line, but he knew that she'd done what he hadn't been able to do in his act of violence. She let out her breath slowly, and leaned just slightly against him.

"Thank goodness that's over," She muttered, and he couldn't help grinning at her.

"You're pretty cool, you know that?" He commented, and she let go of his hand to push at him, laughing embarrassedly.

"Shut up! Don't make fun of me. Your English sucks as much as mine does, and you know it."

"No, I'm serious! That was really cool of you!" He was laughing as he said it, but he really meant it, and he made sure she knew his sincerity by looking at her straight in the eyes as he added, "You did a much better job than I could have done."

"Kazu-kun," She said, blushing a little as she looked at his shoes, "I only said those things because I was so angry that he insulted you. I would never have had to courage if you weren't next to me holding my hand."

"R-really?" Kazuma said, feeling himself flush pink.

"This is why you were worried, right?" She looked at him with a look of comprehension dawning on her face. "This is why you ran around for me... you were worried something like this might happen."

"Sort of," He admitted, and to his shock she suddenly leaned forward on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips, just briefly.

"Thank you for worrying about me, Kazu-kun," She said happily. Kazuma knew-- he could feel-- that he was flaming red. He tried to get his tongue to untwist as he yelped, looking around him wildly as he did so,

"Are-- you-- crazy?! There are people here!!"

There was no one, however, in the hall at the moment; she raised her eyebrows at him slyly. "Do you really think I would have done that with other people looking?" She teased, and he tried to get his heart back down to a slower beating rate.

"You are such a cheeky little brat," He muttered, and she laughed.

"You're late to the warm-up session," She reminded him, "They'll start training in earnest in a few minutes."

She was starting to walk towards the main entrance, but since no one was there and Kazuma honestly felt her more precious than usual at that moment, he pulled her back.

"Wha--?"

"In here, you idiot," He muttered, blushing hard as he yanked her behind the door, and wrapping his arms around her waist he leaned down and captured her lips with his in a deep, sweet kiss. She let out a little moan into his mouth that sent warm tingles shooting up his spine. They stayed behind the door for a long moment, and then he reluctantly pulled away from her.

As he walked with her to the sports hall full of activity, his hand in hers, he glanced at her. Her cheeks were pink, and as she caught him looking at her she gave him a rosy smile.

"I love you, Kazu-kun." She said quietly, so naturally.

"...Idiot." He muttered, turning away quickly before she caught his lips twitching.

"I'll be waiting here, then," She said near the bleachers, pulling her hand from his gently, "I won't go anywhere, I promise."

This time, he didn't stop or hide his warm smile from her.

"Osu."

She always knew exactly what to say.

-end- 


	4. Protector: Second Half

As I watched the basketball team do passing drills, my eyes were on Kazu-kun. He was slick with sweat, his eyes blazing, and I couldn't help smiling. He was just so passionate about basketball, it always made me happy to see him play. I'd brought out some assignments to do as I waited, but they were still sitting in my bag, untouched.

"Watchin' your boyfriend again, eh?"

I turned to see my room-mate, Jessica, making her way towards my spot in the bleachers. I nodded, smiling at her as she plopped down and sighed.

"I'm here to watch Conrad, too. Oh, Conrad thinks Kazuma's very cool, by the way." She said easily, and I beamed at her.

"Thank you." She looked rather amused as how pleased I was.

"You know, I've been meanin' to ask you," Jessica said, her blue eyes curious, "I mean, Conrad told me that Kazuma says he brought you here. And from what I see, Kazuma is very over-protective of ya."

"Over-protective?" I repeated, stumbling slightly over the word; I didn't understand, and Jessica tapped her chin as she tried to think of an easier synonym. I have to study English a lot more, I reprimanded myself, especially since Kazu-kun seems to have developed a mental block to it.

"Yanno... He's always with ya, all the time. If Conrad tagged along with me all the time, it'd drive me crazy. I just was curious - are you really okay with him followin' ya all the time?"

She had a point. Kazu-kun was really always with me, waiting for me outside my dorm room or lecture hall and walking me everywhere. But he had been adamant about us being together as much as possible, and personally, I didn't have too much of a problem with that. He had promised me, that time in the chapel, that he was always going to watch out for me and be with me.

Besides, when I wasn't with him ... just an hour ago he had proven to me how seriously worried he became, running all around the school trying to find me. The memory made me blush again.

"I am okay," I said, hoping I was phrasing myself appropriately, "Kazuma... takes good care of me. I want to be with him all the time."

"Hm," Jessica mused, raising her brows at me, "I wonder if it's an Asian thing. Well, it sounds damn romantic to me, so far. Keep it up."

Before I could reply, I realised with a jolt that Kazu-kun and Conrad were making their way towards us. Apparently they were taking a short break to have a drink.

"Hey Kazuma," Jessica greeted cheerfully, and he shrugged and said a gruff 'hi' in return before smiling at me. Jessica didn't seem to mind; she was busy greeting her own boyfriend, Conrad, with a brief kiss. I tried not to pay any attention to them, but they had reminded me of the sweet kiss Kazu-kun had surprised me with just before practice had started...

"I could use that right about now," Kazu-kun said, pointing at the Gatorade bottle, and I handed it to him, smiling slightly. "Thanks!" I continued to watch him as he gulped down the drink, and wary of my eyes on him he swallowed and demanded, "What is it? Something on my face?"

"I'm just looking," I said innocently, and he cocked a brow at me, blushing slightly at my gaze.

"Whatever, idiot," He muttered, thrusting the bottle back into my hands, and he ran off back to the court.

"I understood that!" Jessica said cheerfully, "He called you 'baka'! Er..." Here she frowned slightly. "Why did he call you that?"

"He just does," I said, laughing a little, and as I watched Kazu-kun back on the court, I remembered the way his eyes had looked into mine before he'd kissed me. I looked at his eyes as he ran back to the back of the line after performing a beautiful lay-up, and I couldn't stop smiling.

It warmed me to my toes to know he was just as passionate about me. 


	5. Himuro Reiichi, Distracted

This wasn't like him at all.

He had been looking down at the same page for nearly five minutes, and though the writing on it was pretty incomprehensible - it was Suzuka Kazuma's work - Himuro had never been so distracted before that he wasn't taking any of it in.

It had something to do with her. He couldn't seem to get the past hour out of his head; he could feel even now the unfamiliar wave of prickles that had stung him when he had heard voices carrying her name in the hallway, saying how she'd tripped in a terrible way, her leg looking something awful. Without him even realising it he'd been walking briskly, jogging almost, towards the medical room...

He could still see her sitting on the edge of the flimsy bed when he closed his eyes, her fingers clutching at the thin blankets, her lower lip slightly tucked under her upper teeth. The bloody mess at her leg had nearly made him flinch. Himuro Reiichi, who could watch Japan's scariest ghost and slasher movies without blinking, nearly flinch at the sight of a cut leg? That in itself was strange enough...

Himuro pondered this for a moment. She was a student of his, and he cared about all his students and their grades. He wanted the best for all of them, truly. But had there ever been a student who had caused him to feel like this... oddly before? He couldn't recall worrying so much about anyone in such a way.

Then again, she was a little... different, for lack of a better word. She could act mature beyond her years at times, and he felt something deep in him stir as he remembered... In his mind's eye, he recalled how soft her eyes had seemed when he had been bandaging her leg, and how gentle and cautious her fingers had been when they'd brushed against his hands while doing so... But what was it about that moment in the medical room that stuck in his mind so much?

Himuro frowned at the paper he was supposed to be marking. Suzuka's writing isn't Japanese, he thought sternly, it's a headache inducer.

'I refuse to mark such slovenly written work. Practice handwriting everyday after school this week with me for an hour.' Himuro wrote this on a post-it note, and stuck it to Suzuka's paper. There was a pause as Himuro studied the effect. Then he took it off.

It's unprofessional of me, Himuro thought, to punish him in this state of mind. I am, after all, rather distracted with my musings about... her...

"Suzuka-kun!" Himuro blinked, and automatically turned his head in response to hearing her voice. She was standing there, half limping, right outside the staff room; Himuro could see her through the sliding windows. The way the sunlight caught her hair made the soft brown look surrounded by a halo.

"What is it?" Suzuka walked up to her from the opposite end of the hallway, his eyebrows arched. Then he looked concerned. "Hey, what happened to your leg?"

"Oh, it's not that bad... I just tripped." She gave a rueful laugh. "I'm sorry to call you back, if you're busy it's no problem, but with this leg I can't reach my sports bag. I left it on top of the shoe lockers, and I usually jump for it, but..."

"Oh, no problem," Suzuka said, shrugging, "I'll help you with that."

"Thanks so much!" She said, her voice heavy with relief, her smile bright, and together the two began walking down the hallway and out of Himuro's sight.

"Here, take my arm," Suzuka's voice could be heard, slightly gruff, "I can't just watch you limp all the way."

"Oh, uhm..." Himuro could hear her voice, slightly hesitant, a little shy... "Thank you, Suzuka-kun..."

Their voices trailed out of earshot.

Himuro stared at the window for a moment, watching the skies turn steadily more orange. Then he looked back down at Suzuka's paper, and felt his brows furrow deeper. His heart was thudding madly. It was as though he had witnessed something incredibly thrilling, or terrible...

Or it was as though he were incensed about something...

Why am I feeling so angry? Himuro wondered, almost bemused. It had something to do with her, again. His thoughts these days tended to come around to her far more frequently than was normal. But perhaps what was troubling Himuro went further than that... It wasn't necessarily the fact he thought about her so much that was so strange, as they had been spending quite a lot of time together, driving out to play billiards or sit at the park once in a while.

It was how he felt when he thought about her, that strange sense of something almost terrifyingly new, and so fragile, but so intense... He didn't know what to make of it, it was a mystery piece of a puzzle that Himuro didn't quite know how to put together. He recalled the tension in the medical room as he had wrapped the bandage around her wounded leg, and tried to discern what kind of tension it was. It wasn't awkward, it was almost... expectant... But what did that mean?

And why, exactly, did he feel so determined to punish Suzuka? Himuro had unwittingly replaced the post-it note back onto Suzuka's paper, and somehow he felt reluctant to remove it. Ah, well. The boy did need to learn proper handwriting, anyway. Himuro pushed the paper aside and pulled towards him the next one he had to mark.

I shouldn't allow myself to be distracted, he told himself firmly, I will carefully analyse my thoughts about her, and her injured leg, later.

But even as he tried to get started on marking the next paper, the images came to his mind unbidden. One after the other they came, the memory of her warm eyes, and how on their last date to the movies she'd had her hair held up from the smooth nape of her neck with that sparkly blue hair tie he found so attractive, and he could hear her inquisitive voice and the demure, meek way she would act sometimes, so innocently, and he could hear his heart beating faster even without any physical exertion...

He proceeded to stare at the next paper blankly for another five minutes.

-end- 


	6. Distracted: Second Half

"Hey, what happened to your leg?"

Tsukushi pattered towards me, looking concerned as well as curious, but I waved him off.

"It's nothing, I just tripped. Go back to your room."

"You're such a klutz," He remarked, earning a whack from me before I hobbled into my room. I left the lights off and sat onto the bed slowly. Sports competitions were always tiring, but somehow I felt a lot more drained, even though I hadn't run nearly as much as I would have if I hadn't been hurt. I glanced down at the bandages so meticulously wrapped around me, and bit my lip.

Of all the times for him to come find me! I must have looked so pathetic, whimpering to myself in the medical room all alone. But... somehow, he didn't make me feel that way at all.

The memory of his hands against my skin felt almost burned into me. His hands were gentle in touch, and though he'd been so careful in his wrapping, everything he touched had tingled powerfully. He had treated my leg as though it belonged to something incredibly fragile, or precious. Except it hadn't - it had belonged to me, the 'klutz' as Tsukushi had been so keen to put it.

I shook my head, heaving out a slow sigh as I lay on my back, easing my bad leg onto the bed gently. I couldn't understand why he had been there in the first place. He had looked slightly, just slightly out of breath when he had appeared, and I'd been much too surprised to react appropriately.

Did he have to look so intense? His eyes, lavender and cool, had looked sternly at me countless numbers of times. It had been no different in the medical room, when he had been concentrating on treating my leg, but there had been something much more powerful in the stern gaze he was giving me. There had been something a little different in his eyes, too, behind the sternness... was I fooling myself into thinking it had been great concern?

After Suzuka-kun helped me get my sports bag down, and I bid him farewell and walked out into the courtyard... I had glanced upward at the school building, somewhat enraptured by the beautiful way the windows were catching the sun, when I saw his face at the window, his tall form leaning against the frame.

When I had raised my hand to wave, my heartbeat speeding up, he had jerked slightly, almost as if startled, before giving back an awkward nod of the head. Then he had turned back and disappeared from view.

What had that been about? I hoped it was only because he had been in one of his less amiable, strict moods that he occasionally had. It was somewhat relieving to think that Suzuka-kun had been there on the floor with the staff room, because I'd lost the courage to ask a certain teacher sitting in the staff room to help me instead. He would have said he was too busy, I told myself, and besides, you shouldn't bother him about those things... he's a teacher, for goodness' sake...

Yes, he is your teacher, another voice in my head said insistently, but when you think back to all the times he was teaching you, instructing the class, or praising your academic prowess, didn't you wonder what it would be like to break past that cool, collected exterior? Didn't you want to know what it would be like if he would let you see another part of him? Didn't you feel a deep thrill inside when he came to you in the medical room, as though beckoned by your thoughts? Was the way he was looking at you in the medical room the way a teacher looks at a student? Was it?

Pressing my palms to my cheeks, I tried to cool my face down, but it was to no avail. I turned around and pressed my face deeply into my pillow, sighing quietly. I would never know the answer to that last question.

Though my heart weighed down with that fact, I could not stop the soft glow from inside from the traces of his touch still lingering on my skin. The glow that would never let me stop hoping. 


	7. Kijyou Madoka, Sweet Torture

Madoka had always had a brilliant sensory system.

It went without saying that he had an excellent eye for aesthetics, but he could also distinguish between light and dark moods just from hearing the way something was said moreso than what was said. His cooking was always impeccable thanks to his keen detection skills for even the slightest difference in the amount of salt or garlic.

But above all, Madoka had a fantastic sense of touch. When it came to girls, this was a prized ability of his. As he treated girls with reverence, he never made it past a tight embrace and a hot kiss (or three), but he was sensitive enough for even the little things to matter. A swift rise in temperature, a quickening of pulse, a soft sheen of sweat... for Madoka, every little thing tingled at his nerve ends with extraordinary amounts of clarity. He revelled in it, and loved how it could make him feel.

And yet, for the first time in his life, he cursed his sensory system and wished it were ten times duller.

"Merry Christmas, Madoka-kun."

She had the most angelic smile on her face and seemed completely unaware of how crazy her elbow was making him feel. Just because it was brushing against his knee every couple of seconds while she was cutting the cake. It didn't even matter that his legs were in pain thanks to his little bike accident, because it was HER elbow.

...Her ELBOW.

Madoka didn't know how it was possible to get flustered over that body part - certainly it wouldn't be the one he'd pick if he could choose - but there it was.

To be fair, she was still dressed in her party dress - a beautiful ivory silk cheongsam - so it was bare skin that was lightly grazing against his (sadly clothed) knee. But even so, this was ridiculous.

What was making him feel worse was his insane desire to run away from the room. Girls didn't make him feel that way, normally. Flirting was plain fun, an addiction Madoka had indulged in with an eagerness three-year-olds had for chocolate mochi.

She glanced back at him for just a moment, as though to check on him, and Madoka reflexively shot a practiced smile at her. She smiled back prettily, in a way that proved her party ensemble made a huge difference; her face was framed with gentle curls and sparkling gold and sapphire pierces, and her lips were a blushing, glossy pink.

When she went back to the cake, Madoka realised he was holding his breath.

Of all the girls Madoka had flirted with, gone on dates with, kissed even, he had never felt so self-conscious. Ever. But then again, no girl had ever worried about him so much that she would skip out on her last Christmas party with all her high school classmates. No girl he knew cared so much that he was alone to the point she'd come find him to share their own little Christmas celebration.

It was frankly unfair to Madoka, in his humble opinion, that she could do something so incredible for him, and he could only sit there and smile at her.

Suddenly, he could feel her palm warmly against his fingers as she used her other hand to hand him a plate with a slice of cake. The gesture was wonderfully intimate, and he felt a flush of pleasure heat his cheeks. Instinctively, he curled his fingers around her own possessively.

Then he realised she was actually pressing a fork into his hand. She rolled her eyes and gave him a playful grin as she swatted at his fingers.

Blwagh. Bravely, Madoka managed to give her a jovial smile back as though he was indeed teasing her, like always. She dropped the fork into his waiting fingers and took up her own plate of cake.

While she wasn't looking, Madoka pressed a palm to his face and let out a groan mentally.

That was the thing with this girl... She made him regret being who he was. It was usually so easy for him with the fairer sex, and with her, he'd thought it had been at first. His flirty antics were generally found to be a fun, shallow way to pass the time. Some had been willing to mess around a little bit physically. Other girls made it clear they were simply humouring him and drew blindingly obvious lines between them.

But with her, it soon became abundantly clear to him that she was untouchable. Not because she had cottoned onto his fliratious tendencies early on and had smartly chosen to never take him seriously. Not even because she was ridiculously hot for her age; he had never seen a girl sport so much skin with such flair and accuracy to a point that showed she wasn't shameless, but confident and free.

No, she was different because-

"Oh wow, this cake is amazing!"

She beamed at him, and there was a smudge of cream at the edge of her mouth. A surge of affection ran through him, and before he realised what he was doing he had raised his fingers to wipe the cream off with his thumb. Her eyes widened a little in surprise, and he felt her cheeks grow slightly warmer. For a second or two, his fingers remained curled at her cheek, his eyes focused on her slightly parted lips. If he kissed her now, she would probably taste sweet, like cake.

"Madoka-kun...?"

She didn't sound in the least bit disturbed or affected, only slightly inquisitive as she tilted her head and looked at him quizzically.

Withdrawing his hand fast as lightning, Madoka said with a bright smile, "Time ta dig in!"

He cleared his throat unnecessarily before digging into his own slice. Given his usual sensitive taste buds, it came as a bit of a shock to realise he was barely tasting any of the cake because his blood was pounding through his head and drowning out all other synapses.

This was what was so frustrating. He had no idea where she was drawing lines, and yet it was so obvious she trusted him not to cross some. She constantly told him to stop messing around with his lovey-dovey jokes, but she was the one who was doing a real number to his own head. Like the boy who had cried wolf too many times, he had expressed his affections for her in far too many ways for her to take him seriously. Actually, the very fact she'd come to his home where the two of them would be alone spoke volumes about what she believed about him.

Basically, everything pointed to her not believing he had romantic feelings for her, to a heart-breaking, crushing extent.

If he was honest with himself, he hadn't foreseen that he'd develop such romantic feelings for her at the beginning. He'd joked about holding her tight and the power of their mighty love out of pure verbal habit. It was always fun and silly with girls, especially ones he barely knew. She had taken it all into stride with remarkable affability.

He wasn't even sure when the feelings had changed. There was no one incident that had stolen his breath away or anything like that. Hanging out with her was fun, of course, but the longer he knew her, the more he thought of her. Something about her absolutely unabashed way of doing things had beckoned him out of his usual reserve.

One date in the cinema, he'd made to put his arm around her during a particularly gooey moment on the screen and she had flicked popcorn at him, her eyes laughing as she lightly kicked at his shoe. Normally, her reaction would have made him shrug and grin at her, and he had. But inside, he'd felt oddly stung. He'd wondered if there was anyone she'd react differently to.

Then she'd come along to his place that one time he'd made curry for dinner, and the naturalness of it all had alerted him to a very unnatural fact: his house felt empty without her. He'd never thought himself to be a lonely person, but she defined the word for him in her absence. It was from that point onwards he realised something had changed for him. But nothing had changed for her, clearly.

And now, like some incurable disease, he couldn't stop making stupid jokes about being in love with her curves and beauty. It was no wonder she couldn't see more than a carefree, cheerfully irresponsible idiot.

Damn it.

He gazed at her as she continued to eat cake, and for a single, desperate moment, he wanted to knock the cake out of her hands pin her down onto the sofa cushions. It'd be a little awkward with his legs hurting the way they were, but he was pretty sure he'd manage. She'd gasp and look surprised at first, but he'd quickly show her he wasn't just someone who wanted to eat cake with her. He'd show her, with his mouth on hers, just what it meant that he was a male with hot blood running through his veins, and his hands would definitely reveal intentions that weren't a joke whatsoever; he'd communicate EXACTLY how he felt about her, and-

The damned thing was, because he liked her, he wouldn't do it. Dream of it, maybe. But betraying her trust was not an option.

To compromise between running from the room and tackling her, Madoka shuffled just a few inches away from her on the sofa. She looked at him in surprise. He swallowed a mouthful of cake, gave her a big smile and chirped,

"This is delicious!"

This was torture.

But at the same time, he had never been so deliriously happy before in his life.

-end-


	8. Sweet Torture: Second Half

The winter air was not bitterly cold tonight, to my intense relief. I hadn't thought to bring along anything more than a light coat to go with the party dress. Admittedly, it was nice to be able to bid farewell to Madoka-kun while still showing a little skin. He liked seeing skin a lot, and he could use the cheering up.

"I'm sorry I can't walk ya home."

Madoka-kun looked like such a sad puppy, I couldn't help laughing.

"It's okay! You should rest. I'll see you again soon."

"W-wait!"

Before I could properly turn to leave, Madoka-kun reached out and grabbed my hand.

Hand-holding was interesting with Madoka-kun. He clearly had all sorts of experience with girls, and judging from the way he'd responded when I'd asked about kissing, he'd definitely kissed a girl before. Several girls.

But holding hands had been alien to him. It had embarrassed him a little, even - which was surprising given all his usual little jokes that could make me blush when I was caught off-guard.

I liked holding hands. It was intimate in a sweet way. Touching usually had rather raunchy connotations with it, but hand-holding was more innocent. It was something you did with someone you trusted, like your parents or a close friend.

A close friend... that was what Madoka-kun was to me, and I treasured his company more than I cared to admit out loud. Holding his hand always fulfilled me in a way I couldn't quite name. It made me feel happy, and a little shy, but ultimately warmed me deep inside.

Because Madoka-kun wasn't like other guys. He messed around a lot and had a carefree front, and the wall he had in front of him was not an easy barrier to penetrate. You would think he liked you enough by the way he would playfully tuck strands of hair behind your ear, whisper that your smile was angelic and feed you home-cooked meals with a spoon and a disarming grin... but I had learnt to read past his antics and understand that there was an impossible distance between us. The recognition that I could be two inches from him or miles apart and still feel no difference in the distance was painful, to say the least.

Feeling his warmth through his fingers, and the assurance of the tightness in his grip on my own made me feel just a little less far from him. Just a little less.

Which was why it shocked me when he grabbed my hand this time, because something was different. That something was white-hot and shot up my arm to tingle in my chest somewhere slightly painfully. He looked me straight in the eyes, and my mind went completely blank.

His mouth moved as though he were trying to say something, though I had no idea what. For the first time, I couldn't summon the strength to hold his hand back, so my fingers were limp in what was an almost uncomfortably tight grip.

He hesitated, words halting before they even made it out his throat, and for one bizarre moment I felt as though his eyes were trained on my own mouth. As though I were about to say something.

The bizarreness escalated as I felt him tug at my hand, and I was drawn towards him as irresistably as gravity. And then we were close. Extremely close. His amber eyes were mesmerising, and half-closed. Madoka-kun had short lashes...

"Madoka-kun?"

I said it softly, and he was so close I could actually feel his breath against my lips.

Something flashed in his eyes, intense and heated, and I squeezed my eyes shut against his gaze. I had no idea what it was I couldn't take, but my whole body was trembling. Was it from the cold?

He exhaled sharply, and I felt it explode against the skin of my lower lip. Before I could reaction, there was a rustle of movement, and then... a warm, soft pressure against my forehead. I opened my eyes to find Madoka-kun drawing back, looking a little embarrassed but his expression openly affectionate.

"Ah, that was dangerous." Madoka-kun's eyes twinkled as he gave me a rueful grin. "You're just too sexy tonight, yanno?"

"Wh-what are you talking about?" I stammered, feeling a blush rise up my cheeks as I belatedly realised he had pressed his lips against my forehead.

"Ya be careful goin' home, ya hear me? Any guy would fall for ya if you're dressed like that." I felt his fingers trail along my arms through the thin material of my coat before his hands fell away. He sighed as he leaned against the door frame, and smiled at me. "I'll watch ya go 'till I can't see you no more."

"It's cold, you should go back in!" I heard myself speak, but I had no idea what I was saying; I was far too flustered. Madoka-kun shook his head and pushed me gently as he chided,

"Exactly why ya should get goin'! Go on."

I did go, and after some distance I paused to turn around and wave at him. He responded in kind, still smiling, and I quickly turned back and went on home.

The whole time, my heart was thudding loudly and made my whole chest ache. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was an irresponsible flirt, but one I liked a lot as a friend. As a FRIEND. Someone like him was bound to never take love seriously. He was desperately afraid of getting hurt, I knew that more than anyone else.

"Nothing has changed," I muttered to myself as I walked on home. My tone grew angry as I said more loudly, "Nothing!"

But as I recalled the gentle kiss upon my forehead, tears came unbidden to my eyes so suddenly I had to stop mid-step. As I wiped my blurry vision away, the dreadful truth sank in.

The one who was more afraid of getting hurt was me.


End file.
